


Picture, Picture, Smile For The Picture

by ChaoticIdol



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Could Be Canon, Demons, Drug Use, Gen, Homura needs a hug, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 12:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticIdol/pseuds/ChaoticIdol
Summary: Everyone thinks that we are prefect, but we aren't. The cracks are clear if you know where to look. The reddened eyes of my brother, the lewd glances of my father, or the flask poking out of my mother's purse paint the perfect picture. And me, well, I have a shattered mirror in my room.-Third person view, and kinda dark, based off the song "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez-





	Picture, Picture, Smile For The Picture

“Smile, dear. This is a happy family.” Her mother gritted out, her cheesy smile never leaving her face. She didn’t even spare her daughter a glance, her manicured nails on her shoulder feeling more like talons. 

Homura breathed deep through her nose, and forced an equally fake smile, looking like the perfect child. She wondered if the camera man could see the cracks beginning to show in them, showing the ugliness under them.

It was clear if you knew where to look. Like her brother’s reddish eyes, her father’s glances at a passing woman’s body, or her mother’s flask poking out of her purse. It was so clear. 

She breathed out as the flash went off and she could return to her minimal existence. She shrugged off her mother’s hand, and ducked around the cameraman to the car. She was glad she had the keys in her dress pocket or she would have to wait until her father was finished flirting with the desk woman, and watch her mother’s sharp teeth gnash against each other as she watched on silently. 

Slipping into the backseat, Homura rested her head against the head rest and watched out the window. The cars on the highway above were blurs, almost dangerously so. She wondered if it was worth walking out into traffic today, wondered if her parents would notice. Probably only if they got negative comments about their parenting skills. 

The door opened and her brother flopped himself down on the seat, shaking the entire vehicle. He stretched his long legs out, and yawned. He glanced at her and nodded towards her before pulling out his ‘special medicine’ as he liked to call it, as if she was dumb enough to believe him. She stopped pretending to care a long time ago. 

With a glance to check for adults or cops, he lit it up and took a long hit, before blowing out the smoke in a cloud of strange smelling plumes. The black haired girl’s nose twitched at the scent, and she causally covered her nose with her scarf.   
“Shit! Homura, cover me lil’ sis!” Her brother whisper shouted towards her, quickly ducking his head to use the bottom of sneakers to out his bunt, and tossed it her way. She snatched it from the air and stuffed it into her shoe, ignoring the almost painful heat of it against her socked foot. 

Their mother yanked open the door in time to get a full face of smoke, gagging and swearing as she attempted to fan the car free of the scent. 

“Goddammit, I leave you two alone for five minutes and you smoke your druggie shit in the car.” She had her nose covered with her two fingers, sounding nasally, “I’m so disappointed in you guys, it’s like every time I expect you heathens to act like civilized human beings you manage to prove me wrong.” 

“Chill, mom. It’s legal now. Besides,” Her brother’s brows wiggled around like worms, and Homura gave a small grimace of a smile, “it’s not the grass you gotta worry about, it’s that new shit going around. What was it called, lil’ sis?” 

“Crocodile Skin” She supplied, never missing a beat. 

“Yeah! That stuff,” He scratched at his scraggly face, a thoughtful look replacing his playful one. “Bad shit there, eats away at your skin and makes you do crazy shit. It’s like bath salts but worse.” 

Their mother sniffed in disgust and daintily settled herself down in the passenger seat, legs swinging into the car as she slammed the door shut. “It proves my point that you know about those horrible things.” 

“Anyone can google it, mom. That doesn’t really prove anything.” Her brother was a smart ass, and he got away with it. She learned the hard way that she couldn’t. 

“Anyway, your father’s talking with that whore at the front desk, so it might be a bit before we get home.” Her mother sourly muttered, a dark look overtaking her beautiful but aging face. 

Homura bit her tongue, and smartly didn’t point out the fact that the woman was just doing her job. 

\------

It was about an hour before they arrived home, and Homura went straight to her room. In the attic, she was set up there with a mattress in a rusted copper bed frame, and glistening wallpaper that looks like stars at night.   
She sat down and glanced to the other size of the small room to look in the mirror on her dresser. The lights were going out, some broken, but she hadn’t had the money or time to fix it. Not like her mother would let her waste money on bulbs, when it could be used to fuel her drinking habits, or her wardrobe habitants. 

She looked in the mirror for a long time, and she only noticed that time had passed when she heard the front door close and her father’s drunken laughter, mixing with that of giggling from a new girl he had probably found while at his fancy club. He always came home at 10 pm sharp from ‘work’, sneaking in with the woman of his choice and disappeared with her into the guest bedroom. 

Homura jumped down from her bed, and quietly raced down to her mother’s room, and knocked lightly. She could hear slight snoozes and assumed that she had drunk herself into a haze again. 

Pushing open the door, she gently strode to her mother’s side, watching in awe at the woman who gave her life. Her hair was a dazzling ebony, and as dark as the night surrounding their house. Her skin was tanned, and speckled with a few moles. She was an angel in league with a devil. 

“Hey, mother, please wake up,” She whispered out, shaking the woman lightly, “Dad’s brought another slut home.” She cringed using that word, but honestly it was the only thing her mother would understand. She never called them anything else.

All she received for her efforts was a slap and screaming for her to get out, get out of her room, get out of her life. She raced out, and leap up the attic stairs and closed the door behind her. She sat down on the dusty mattress again, clutching her cheek. She could feel copper in her mouth and figured it must have been her mother’s ringed hand. 

She looked up and spotted herself in the mirror, or at least, she assumed it was her. All she saw was a broken little girl with a bruised cheek and an empty gaze. In a fit of rage, she took the nearest object, which happened to be a small stool she used when doing her hair, and ran at the mirror. She hit with full force, and felt alive when the mirror shattered. The pieces scattered around her and she felt like she was shattering too. 

The young girl fell to her knees, wrapping her body around the stool and silent sobbing. She almost didn’t notice the cat like creature that appeared before her, and she saw the image of a pink haired girl in the glittering shards surrounding her. The being told her she could have someone to protect, to love. Who loved her back. All she needed to do was make a contract, a wish. She didn’t need anything other than that to wish harder than she ever had.


End file.
